“It isn’t romantic because my blood and the Dragon’s magick are the only things keeping all of Aegis from starving in a winter that will never end. Or living short, hard lives in complete darkness when the sun no longer rises. Let’s not forget drowning due to unpredictable tides. Take your pick.” Tia’s hands stopped. Liz leaned her head against the gilded edge of the marbled bath. “I’m the crown princess of Aegis, chosen by the gods and my blasted red hair to die in two days’ time. What if the reason I can’t disprove the Priestesses is because they’re right? What kind of princess would I be if I let my people die out of cowardice?”
There was splashing, but no answer. Liz didn’t open her eyes. Tia was never speechless, and Liz didn’t think she could handle whatever expression she held on her pretty face. She would miss Tia the most. Out of everyone alive, she knew that Tia would mourn the girl she was. Not the sacrifice everyone else wanted her to be.
Each year it got worse. So many people died the last time winter descended. It reached Silver City, the bay freezing over for the first time in an age. Liz remembered thinking it had been so beautiful and crystalline. A great and terrible beauty, killing indiscriminately through starvation and illness.
Suddenly, Liz felt the biting cold, her breath fogging before her as she shivered in the steaming bath, freezing despite the heat. The mists rose and the bath was whisked away, until her mind took her to a far-off place.
Snow was falling steadily now, sticking to the ground and coating it in a fine powder. Black storm clouds of the first wild blizzard roiled overhead. As the mist cleared, Liz discerned the hazy silhouette of the Black Mountains in the distance, the clang of steel and the scrape of it against flesh. Men howled in the frigid air and soldiers surrounded her, twisting and tangling together, each desperate to end the other. Two armies marching beneath different flags, two sides of the same violent coin. The black banner of the Dragon's men rose above them, thrashing and gnashing, adorned with his crimson winged serpent. The other emblazoned with the Royal crest, a crown lifted on cresting waves.
A general screamed in silence, his words harsh and muffled together. His face, a frozen horror to behold. Eyes so black they may have been made from the harsh mountain stone, hair dark and tinged with blood. The only sign of life was the slash of red curled on his cruel lips. He pointed to a man astride a white horse, his face obscured by a helmet. The knight atop the horse raised his sword high into the air and a screaming howl ripped straight through her. A dark shadow passed in front of the sun, and the whole world went dark.
When the light returned, she was back in the bath, the mist faded into the wafting steam surrounding her.
"Where did you go this time, highness?" Tia watched her, dripping the warm buttermilk on Liz's moonlight pale skin. She felt as insubstantial as the mists that had carried her away. Liz gripped Tia’s fingers to still her, needing her light to dispel the darkness encroaching on her mind. They were happening more often now, these visions of hers. Visions she didn’t dare confess to the Priestesses, only to Tia. The last thing she needed were the Priestesses getting nervous and locking her away until the sacrifice.
"The same place. The same place every time," Liz whispered, the ominous cold still lingering deep inside of her, coiling in the pit of her stomach. When winter descended and the snow fell thick upon the ground, the Dragon would battle the white knight. Somehow, they would end everything, or perhaps begin something else. She trusted the certainty ringing inside of her, the low note of a temple bell resonating through her skin.
After a long while, Liz finished in the bath and donned her blue chiffon night robe. She padded on bare feet to her chambers, her mind whirring with renewed skepticism. Her visions never changed; the Dragon battled the white knight at the onset of winter. A winter that wasn’t supposed to happen according to the prophecy. She couldn’t prove it, but she knew the prophecy was wrong.
“Tia!” Killian, Tia’s brother, scowling and handsome in his polished silver armor came barreling down the corridor. No doubt he was here to scold Tia for one of her latest escapades. Liz ducked out of his way and took a longer route to her rooms.
The fading summer breeze dried her scarlet curls as she stood on her balcony. She loved the palace with its wide, breezy walkways and endless ocean views. The stars were mirrored in the deep dark of the water below. The moon mocked her, shimmering and winking, kissing the peaks of the gentle waves lapping beneath. Her heart ached with the violence of its beauty. She wondered briefly if, when she died, she would miss this place so much her soul would wander back here.
"The kingdom for your thoughts, songbird?" Liz let her eyes shut against the musical tone of her mother's voice.
"I'm just soaking it all in while I still can." Her mother's long fingers twisted through her hair, untangling the wet, unruly curls. Her mother always had to fuss and fidget over her hair, every curl in its proper place. Liz preferred it wild and tangled. One coil completely indecipherable and clinging desperately to the next.
"Do you think father will even notice I'm gone? Or will he be too busy on his knees before Priestess Elba?"
Her mother clucked disapprovingly, her fingers rapidly moving to separate each wild curl from the next. "You know he will, Lisbet. Don't be unkind. His faith gives him comfort."
"Unkind?" She twisted to find her mother's weary eyes. “I’m the one you'll be burying. By his command, no less, your only daughter. I wish you were a little less kind, perhaps then I wouldn't have to die for his sake." Her mother's eyes, blue as the bay below them, hardened into ice.
Liz should've known better than to pick a fight. It was all they did lately. Perhaps if she were to live longer, to have a family of her own, these growing pains would have time to dissipate. As it was, she didn’t want their last words to be in anger to one another. Sighing deeply, she prepared to forego her pride for the sake of peace.
"I'm sorry, I know you tried to convince him to give me more time." She heard sniffling and forced her eyes back out to the night sky. Liz wouldn’t pretend that she was strong enough to watch her mother cry.
"You were three hours old when the Priestesses came to us. You hadn’t even opened your eyes yet. What other recourse is there to take? We were all robbed of our choice in this."
It was the same questions every time, the same arguments, the same result. Only this time, her mother wrapped Liz in her arms like when she was a child and held her wet curls to her chest. Ruining the fine silk of her dressing gown.
"I know my duty. At least my death will save our people." Her words fell flat in the night air, spoken only to soothe her mother and not for her own benefit. The rattle of her mother's sobs reverberated through her chest. She buried her nose in Liz’s hair and wailed to the night sky.
"I'm not ready for this, gods! I'm not ready."
In truth, neither was Liz.
Chapter Two
"We can't do this, Mara." Mat was breathless, shirtless, his hands clinging tight to the soft curves beneath his fingers. Her lips ran down his neck, and he gripped her so hard he worried that he might leave marks.
"Your mouth keeps saying no, but those hands of yours are saying something different." Her voice was throaty and deep. If he didn't leave now, he wouldn't leave at all. Mat wouldn’t let a good girl like her get tangled up with a wretch like him. He clenched his teeth as her dress slid from her shoulder, exposing her soft olive-toned skin. Her dark hair fell loose and wild about her. A tortured groan wrenched from between his teeth, and she smirked wickedly at the sound. It took all his will power to loosen his grip on her hips and push her gently off of his lap.